


in silent waves of electric light

by notthequiettype



Category: Bandom, We The Kings (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-28 22:56:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16732236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notthequiettype/pseuds/notthequiettype
Summary: It's not like Travis plans it, not like it was some fucked up goal on his agenda - to do: fuck Hunt's kid brother.





	in silent waves of electric light

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to LJ on March 14, 2008 -- Title from Cary Judd

It's not like Travis plans it, not like it was some fucked up goal on his agenda - to do: fuck Hunt's kid brother - hell, he never even thought about Drew that way past a fleeting thought or two about the kid's mouth when they were drunk and practicing chord progression in Danny's garage.

But then they get picked up by a label - a _real_ label - and tacked onto a tour - a _real_ tour - and they're sharing a bus with some dudes they've never met, guys who apparently have no issues fucking groupies _or each other_ on said bus and Travis kind of starts losing his mind.

They're somewhere in the midwest, Chicago maybe - Travis isn't really sure - and Trace and Mason are putting on a particularly dramatic performance in Mason's bunk at the front of the bus, right next to the lounge where Drew and Travis have hunkered down, trying to drown out the sounds with a Led Zeppelin live boxset. It's not really working; they can hear every single one of Mason's desperate little "Trace, _please_ "s and Trace's dark little laughs, the low way he groans when Mason goes tight around him - or at least that's what Travis imagines is happening every time Trace groans. 

Drew's reading a book, something epic, maybe Ayn Rand or The Grapes of Wrath \- Travis knows he saw the cover once before Drew wrapped it up in a tour poster, like they all learned with paper bags and textbooks in high school. Travis is trying to scribble down a handful of lyrics that hit him tonight at the bar. He'd walked offstage and headed for the back of the club, downed a Jack and Coke and then there were words and the vague hum of a melody and he hightailed it for the bus and his battered notebook. It's the first genuine spike of inspiration he's had since they started out on the road and there was no fucking way he was running the risk of losing it. 

He's stretched out on the couch, notebook open over one thigh, tapping a rhythm out on his knee with a pen. He knows there's something here, a song, a fully-shaped, ready-to-be-thrown-down-on-paper-and-maybe-tape song, but he's struggling to pull it out, only pieces of lyrics coming and he's starting to hit the level of frustration where, back at home, he would've called Hunter and they would've gone paintballing, or maybe hit the batting cages for an hour. Out here there's nothing though, nothing easy he can do to take his mind off of how frustrated he is, nothing to shut his brain down for awhile.

"Stop thinking about it so hard." Drew's voice is quiet and he folds his book over his knee, hands on the cover. "Only gonna make it worse that way."

Travis laughs a little. "Figures. First time all tour I get an idea for something and I can't get it down."

Drew smiles, this little half-mouthed thing that Travis has probably seen him do a hundred times and never noticed. "You're only having trouble because you're obsessing. Stop thinking about it."

Travis looks up at Mason's bunk. "If I could just fucking concentrate."

Drew laughs a little, low, reaches over and grabs the pen and notebook from Travis. "Stop thinking about it." He closes them up, sets them on the couch. "Sit back, watch the DVD and don't think about the song. It'll come when it's ready."

"I'd rather _they_ just come already so they'd shut the fuck up."

Drew laughs and closes his book, sets it down on top of Travis's notebook. He stands up and yanks a hoodie over his head, the same one he's been wearing for three days. "Let's go."

"What?"

"Grab a jacket and come on." Travis hesitates and Drew motions for him to follow. "You really wanna sit in here and obsess until you lose the song altogether? Listen to the chorus of the douchebag twins in there?"

Travis stands up, grabs his jacket off the hook next to his bunk. "Let's go."

Drew pushes the door out and hears someone yell, "Motherfucker." The door swings open and Hunter and a blonde in very little clothing are standing just below the stairs into the bus. "Jesus, bro, you almost hit me in the head."

Drew rolls his eyes and Travis laughs. The blonde rubs her hand down Hunter's arm. "This is your little brother? He's kinda pretty."

Hunter hooks his arm around Drew's shoulder as he moves to step around him, pulls him in. "Isn't he just? Wastes it all on being a fuckin' fudgepacker though."

The blonde clucks her tongue as Drew twists out from under Hunter's grip. "What a shame. Always wanted to try brothers."

Travis follows Drew, bumps his shoulder hard into Hunter's as he passes. "Dick."

"You boys have fun now!" Hunter yells at their backs as they cross the parking lot. "Use protection!" Travis flips him off and jogs to catch up to Drew.

"Your brother's kind of a dick."

"Really? I hadn't noticed." Drew snorts, sarcastic.

Travis bumps his shoulder, easy. "Don't let him get to you, man. It's none of his fucking business who you go to bed with. I mean, it's nobody's, right?"

Drew laughs. "Hunt's been calling me a fag since I was like four. I'm not real concerned with his perception of my sexuality. He's my brother. It's what they do."

"Where're we going?"

Drew rubs his hands together then pushes his hair back away from his face. "There's a park a couple blocks over, back toward the interstate. Saw it when we drove in. Some swings and shit."

Travis claps. "Dude, awesome. Dibs on the slide!"

Drew skips, takes off in a jog. "Not if I get there first, man."

Drew beats him there, slaps his hand against the cold metal of the tallest slide, but he runs past the structure and flops down on a swing, kicking off and pumping his legs like he's still running. Travis laughs, coughs a little bit - the air is so much colder than it seemed before, sucking it down in big swallows, he feels like his lungs are going snowy. 

He sidesteps the slide too, sits sideways on the swing next to Drew instead, rocks side to side, stops like he's going to let Drew swing into him, pushing back at the last second. Drew swings far, kicking at the air.

"Don't fall off and smash your skull in. I don't have a replacement bass player handy."

"When I was a kid," Drew says, as he swings past Travis, still swinging higher, "I used to kick at lights on the sand line when we'd go to the park." He aims his foot at the one directly in front of them to illustrate, turning the swing a little. "I thought that one day I'd be big enough to kick the light out."

Travis laughs, looking up at the orange-ish yellow glow. "You'd look like a fucking freak onstage if you were that tall."

"Yeah, but I could kick out the light."

Travis laughs again. "What for?"

Drew drags his feet in the sand a little, slowing down. "'Cause it's a lot easier to tell the truth in the dark."

Travis reaches out and grabs the chain of Drew's swing, pulls at it until the swing stops. "What truth do you need to tell that you can't say in the light?"

Drew laughs and Travis swears he hears a nervous tremor to it. "Nothin'. Not a thing to tell."

Travis pulls on the swing chain again, drags it closer. "Come on, man. What?"

"It's nothing. Really."

"Dude, _what_? Unless you're gonna tell me you're leaving the band to find yourself in an ashram or something, there's nothing you can't say to me." Travis tries to turn the swing so Drew's facing him. "Dude, seriously. You know that, right? That you can talk to me?"

"You're Hunt's best friend. You don't wanna hear what I have to say."

"I'm your friend too, right? By now, I mean. I hope so."

"Yeah, it's just..."

Travis claps his hands together. "Okay, so. Close your eyes."

"What?"

"It's easier in the dark, right? So Pretend you kicked out the light and close your eyes."

"Seriously?"

"I'll close mine and you close yours and you can just talk. Pitch black on both sides of the conversation."

Drew tilts his head and purses his mouth, but Travis just closes his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest, back against the chain of the swing. "Come on, it'll be a bonding experience. Like free tour therapy in a non-clinical setting. Some holistic bullshit."

Drew laughs then goes quiet. Travis listens to the wind blow through the trees on the north end of the park, the creak of the swings as they both sway. Drew doesn't talk, but Travis doesn't want to rush him, just waits it out, feels the cold of the chain seeping through the back of his jacket.

There's another minute or so of silence and then Drew's hands are on his shoulders and their mouths are touching. It's the softest kiss Travis thinks he's ever been apart of - Drew's mouth is warm and dry and he's touching his lips to Travis's so delicately that he kind of thinks he's imagining it. And then Drew lets out this soft little noise and starts to pull away, but Travis reaches out and pulls him back in, presses their mouths together again, soft still, but more insistent. 

The angle is awkward, there's a chain separating them and Drew's hunched over, caught up in the twisted swing, but Travis doesn't want to stop long enough to fix it. He slides his hands up to the back of Drew's neck, curls his fingers into the hair at the back of his neck, and Drew's mouth opens on a quiet little half-sigh, and Travis grins against him.

Travis pulls back for a second then leans in and drops a quick kiss on the center of Drew's mouth, pulls back again, then has to lean in one more time. Drew's smiling when Travis looks at him, that little half-mouthed one from the bus, and his eyes are still closed.

"Can't stand to look at me now?"

"Don't want it to go away in the light. Might be an illusion, only real in the dark."

Travis reaches out and rubs his thumb across Drew's mouth. "Pretty sure it's real. You taste like Big Red."

Drew laughs and opens his eyes, ducks his head, kind of bashful. "I probably shouldn't have done that, huh?"

"It wasn't what I was expecting."

"Pretty stupid move?"

"I thought you were gonna tell me you had a crush on Trace or Marshall or Gabe or something."

Drew laughs, teeth flashing white against his bottom lip. "Not so much."

"I sensed that. I think I might have ESP or something."

Drew laughs again, swings a little. "So."

"So."

"Not gonna make it easy on me, are you?"

Travis grins. "Not gonna make what easy on you?"

Drew shakes his head. "Is this... gonna be weird?"

Travis grabs Drew's swing and pulls him over, presses their mouths together, easy, already familiar. "Is what gonna be weird?"

Drew grins, curls his fingers into Travis's hair and kisses him. "You think the carnival sideshow in the bus is over yet?"

"Doesn't matter." Drew grins. "Let's go make our own."


End file.
